


Coffee

by shamelesstoaster



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Sex, Cunnilingus, F/M, Hook-Up, Mettaton has a vibrating dick and tongue, NSFW, Pegging, Praise Kink, Rimming, Smut, Strap-Ons, Vaginal Sex, Vibrators, You Have Been Warned, just shameless self-indulgence, ok nothing is too weird over here, the other kind of coffee, thigh-fucking, who doesn’t want Mettaton to show up at their apartment let’s be real
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-20
Updated: 2019-05-03
Packaged: 2019-05-09 04:54:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14709449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shamelesstoaster/pseuds/shamelesstoaster
Summary: It’s a boring day at a boring job, and you give your number to a not-so-boring customer.He decides to drop by for coffee.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have a need for more Mettaton/reader- ok no I’ll be honest. I have a need for Mettaton. 
> 
> Anyway....

You always hated Wednesday afternoons. 

To be honest, you hated most days. Work always seemed to suck the life out of you, one bone-numbing register shift at a time, dealing with people who didn’t seem to understand coupon expiry dates or the fact that they couldn’t just walk out of the store with items without paying. All with that welcoming smile and helpful attitude you were forced to fake in the face of so much stupidity.

Wednesday was especially annoying, so far from the weekend that you usually ended up working anyway, so close to the beginning of the week, and usually quiet right after lunch, making it harder to not fall asleep where you stood or yawn in the face of the odd customer that came through your checkout. You could really do with something exciting right about now, you thought dully, smothering a sigh as you tried to shake out a foot cramp for the third time that day. It might be time for some new shoes, too...

You weren’t expecting your next customer to catch your eye as much as they did. Then again, who expects to serve a celebrity at work? Especially in your work, which was nothing more than a grocery store chain which was hardly frequented by anyone with actual money.

Of course you recognised him, even with the beanie and scarf that were obviously meant to disguise him. Only Mettaton, celebrity to both monsters and humans, would think it was a good idea to wear bright pink go-go boots with his jean jacket and tights when attempting to go undercover. Or slumming it. Or whatever he was doing in your innocuous store in your random part of the city.

You weren’t going to make a scene about this. You understood that if he was trying not to be recognised, he obviously wouldn’t want his presence to be broadcast for everyone to hear. So instead you started to ring up his items, an interesting collection of instant noodles, chocolate, a whole rotisserie chicken, monster-brand tea, a heat pack, and various cold-and-flu medications. What an entertainment robot needed with food, or medication, or your store in general, you weren’t going to judge. But you were curious.

“Having guests over, Mr Mettaton?” You kept your tone quiet, cool, and unaffected, channeling your general customer-service demeanour. “That is a lot of food.”

He glanced up sharply, and you were immediately intrigued by his eyes, pink and slightly pixilated in their synthetic sockets. When he spoke, it was without the dramatic flourishes you knew he usually used, sounding a lot more subdued. “I’m shopping for a friend. She’s not really used to, ah...” he motioned to the meds, “human illnesses, so I’m helping her out while I’m here. This is the only place that sells her favourite flavour of instant noodles, apparently.”

Even quiet and almost normal-sounding, his voice was smooth and alluring, making you have to work extra hard to not betray your excitement to have him standing right there in front of you. It wouldn’t be good form to swoon at the register. “Oh, that’s nice of you, sir. I hope she feels better soon.” There, that sounded normal, didn’t it? You finished scanning his items and told him the total, wondering if you should try to continue the conversation. This was a celebrity. A hot one. In your shop. Probably the only time it was ever going to happen to you. You should say something cool or funny or flirty!

He paid while you were debating with yourself, and you watched the receipt print, urging yourself to say something, anything, that wouldn’t make you sound boring or awkward. This already felt like such a clunky interaction, in the quiet of the store with only the beeping registers and shopping cart wheels in the background. Surely there was something you could do to make this memorable...

In a moment of inspiration, you grabbed your pen and wrote down your number on the receipt, handing it over with a shy grin. Your friends were always telling you that you needed to be more spontaneous and proactive. Well, this was as proactive as you knew how to be. “I finish at 5. Have a nice day!”

He tucked it in the bag, blinking in surprise at the unexpected addition, and nodded to you, mouth turning up pleasantly at the corners. “Thanks, darling! You too.”

He called you darling! 

You watch him leave, gaze caught on the way his hips move when he walks, the unconsciously sensual swing of his ass as he disappears from view. He’s so gorgeous, and you wish you could’ve been more smooth. You clutch your pen tightly and fight the urge to bang your head against the counter, cringing internally. ‘I finish at 5’? Why did you tell him that? Well done for embarrassing yourself in front of THE Mettaton. You sounded like you were desperate for a lay, which, while not entirely untrue, you didn’t want coming across to a celebrity. 

Well, at least you’d probably never see him again. Thank god.

******

Work finishes excruciatingly slowly, but eventually you’re done, and you head home for a shower and a quiet dinner alone. The freedom to talk to yourself and not wear pants is one of your favourite things about living alone. You put on some music to mask the silence of your small apartment and hummed along while microwaving your meal, almost missing your ringtone when your phone rings from the bedroom. You hurry to answer it, a little apprehensive as you don’t recognise the number.

“Is this the lovely lady I met at the store today?” 

Your jaw drops as you immediately recognise his voice. “What?”

“It’s Mettaton, sweetheart. You gave me your number, remember?”

“Yes! I-I know. But. I wasn’t expecting you to- you know- actually call me?” you squeak, heart starting to pound. You’re so nervous you feel like you’re about to crush your phone in your hand. 

“Well, my sick friend wants me out of the house, and you said you finish at 5, so I’m assuming that meant you’re available... am I correct?”

“Yes...” Mettaton wanted to... what? Hang out with you? Go on a date? Hook up? You were down for any one of those things, but especially the latter. Your mouth is dry, and you have to swallow several times before you can speak again. “Did you want to... come over? To my house? For coffee? Or something?” Oh, well done, smooth going there. You almost made a full sentence.

“That sounds wonderful. To be clear, is this coffee-coffee, or... coffee?” The way he said the last word left no doubt as to what he means. 

“Um... c-coffee..?” You couldn’t possibly put the same amount of insinuation in the word when you were stammering out of excitement, so you added, “the second one?”

“Very well, I’ll be right over. Your address?”

You told him numbly, and repeated his goodbye as he disconnected. Everything is so sudden that you don’t know what to feel, but you do know this- you need to get ready. You’re receiving a guest, and you can’t leave the house the way it is.

The next few minutes is a whirlwind as your rush frantically around the house, looking for something to wear and tidying as you go. You need something nice, but nothing that tries too hard or shows that you’re expecting him. Even though you are. And even though it’s likely to be thrown off again as soon as he arrives. Do you need pants? Probably not. They won’t last anyway. Are your socks cute enough?

You need to calm down.

You can’t.

You’re nowhere near ready when you hear the knock at the door, but your oversized sweater and long socks will have to do, as will your semi-clean house. You take a few deep breaths and force yourself to open the door, smiling nervously at the robot standing outside. “Hey! Hi! Um, come in?”

He does, still in his failed disguise, pulling off the silly beanie and ruffling his hair as he steps inside. You watch him look you up and down with a critical eye, suddenly extremely self-conscious. You thought your outfit was cute but sexy, but maybe he isn’t into it. Maybe you got this all wrong and he’ll change his mind about ‘coffee’. Maybe-

“Well, aren’t you the cutest thing?” He unwraps his scarf, smiling warmly, and you feel yourself relax. “I’m loving this combo- you have a good sense of style.” He approaches slowly, reaching for your hand and placing a kiss on the back of it, such a strangely sweet gesture for what you hope is still a hookup situation. So close now, all up in your personal space, he holds your gaze and his eyes glitter. “I might even let you keep the socks on.”

“Oh!” You blank, wanting to add to the flirty banter but finding nothing left after that suggestive comment. Damn you’re rusty at this. “O-okay! Whatever you want, Mettaton...”

He chuckles, brushing some hair out of your face with a gentle hand. “No, no. Whatever YOU want. I was built to entertain, which I fully intend to do tonight.”

Well fuck, if that isn’t enough to get your heart racing... you waste no time, pulling him into a kiss that starts off soft and builds as he wraps his arms around you, pulling you flush against his body. His lean, artificial body, which has just enough softness to feel almost organic. Almost is good enough for you, especially when his hands start to wander down to your ass and he presses his hips into you, grinding a hard length against you. Well, then. You’re really doing this.

You push his jacket off his shoulders, and he shrugs out of it, hands slipping underneath your sweater and tracing your bare skin. You can’t help the shivers that follow his touch, and his breath tickles your cheek as he discovers your bare breasts, curious fingers pressing into your supple skin and brushing your nipples, making you weak at the knees. “Bed?” he whispers, tweaking a sensitive bud.

You arch with a gasp, pointing towards the bedroom. “Bed. That way.”

Somehow you make it there still attached, shedding clothes on the way, and he pushes you down onto the bed and captures your lips again, dominant but not aggressive. You’re perfectly happy with this arrangement, sighing with delight as he kisses down your jaw and trails down your neck, brushing your fingers through his thick, dark hair. He kneads lightly at your breasts, humming against your skin as he works his way down. “Humans are so soft... so nice to touch... you’re so beautiful...”

You’re about to answer, but then he presses his lips around a nipple and you gasp instead, toes curling. The way he works his tongue, finding exactly the right way to send those tingles of pleasure down your spine, is downright sinful, and he’s only on your chest! Your panties are soaked from this stimulation alone, and you long to find out just how skilled he is in other ways. 

He seems to know this, because he moves on, kissing downwards, until he’s crouching between your legs, and you watch him look up at you with the most mischievous grin before licking a slow strip over the damp fabric. You give a shaky moan and twitch your hips, the stimulation good but nowhere near enough. He continues to tease you, tongue dancing lightly over you, bordering on tickling, building your desperation until you’re arching and groaning with frustration. You feel him chuckle against you and his fingers slip under your waistband, pulling the soaked cloth away, and you kick them away, spreading you legs again with almost painful anticipation. 

He doesn’t drive straight in, however, and you feel his lips on the inside of your thigh, right next to the top of your thigh-highs. Kissing the soft skin, sucking lightly in some places, working his way towards your core, he makes you squirm and pant, building up your need until you’re almost shaking with it. As he traces the seam between your thigh and your crotch with his tongue, he looks up with you from behind his eyelashes- those ridiculously long eyelashes, what wouldn’t you give for eyes like his?- and smirks.

“You might want to hold onto something, darling...”

“What do y- oH FUCK!” You’re in no way ready for it when he presses his now-vibrating tongue against your clit, and the suddenness of the stimulation makes you jerk your hips off the bed, crying out. He holds you down, grasping at the soft flesh of your thighs with a gentle but strong grip, leisurely circling around your nub, sending hot spikes of sensation to coil in your belly. “Y-you have a-a vibe- vibrating t-tongue?!” you managed to gasp out, fisting your hands in your sheets, twitching uncontrollably under his ministrations, unable to believe your luck. Never have you heard of something so amazingly ridiculous.

“Mm-hmm...” he hums, answering the obvious question with an amused tone. He pauses for a second, quirking a grin at the desperate mess that you’ve become. “Designed for entertainment, honey... all kinds.” The buzzing in his mouth makes him sound funny, but you don’t get the chance to laugh at it. You can only whimper in response as he dives back in, the slow strokes making your head spin. It’s making you ache deep inside for something to fill you, and you can feel yourself clench around nothing, craving, needing him... 

You come before you realised you’re doing it, tensing as the white-hot flash overtakes you and sends aftershocks down your spine. He doesn’t let up, holding you down as he draws out the last of it, then switching off the vibrations and letting you rest. You pant shakily, legs trembling, but you’re in no way satisfied yet. If anything, you’re even more desperate than before, and you give his hair a gentle tug in an attempt to communicate what you want.

“Metta- inside me, please, I need you-“ you breathe as he raises himself up to be eye-to-eye. His pupils glint, the unnatural pink darkening as he smiles that wicked smile, sending shivers down your spine. 

“As you wish, love.” He pushes down his tights and kicks them away, revealing the hardness that you had felt before. It’s black like the rest of him, long and ridged and curved, and you need it inside you immediately. He sees the look in your eye and chuckles, pressing his hips close and grinding his length against you, sighing at the contact. “O-oh, darling, you’re so slick... I could do this for ages...”

You whine impatiently at his teasing, wrapping your arms around his black-and-chrome body, bucking your hips against him. He decides to take pity on you, slipping down to prod at your entrance, and your hold his gaze as he pushes inside, watching the way his eyes flutter and the colours change. He’s everything you’ve ever craved, brushing all the right spots inside you, stealing your breath away with delight as he moves against you, already setting up a rhythm. He fills you so well, as if he was always meant to be there, and the specially designed bumps and ridges drag against your walls so perfectly, making you mewl and clutch him tightly.

“You’re... so... soft...” he groans, closing his eyes, his breath ticking your face. “S-so... warm...” He braces his arms next to your head, unable to keep his thrusts slow and sensual like he was probably planning to. Your breath quickens at the sound of him enjoying you as much as you’re enjoying him, his quick movements sending spirals of pleasure deep inside you. He looks so amazing like this- hair dishevelled, mouth parted, eyes hooded, and some kind of magic blush rising out of his cheeks. It’s a good look on him. 

He presses his forehead into yours, and you wrap your legs around him, encouraging him deeper. You’re unabashedly moaning now, and he’s matching you, both chasing orgasm like it’s a race. You rake your nails down his back, not afraid of hurting the synthetic skin, crying out as the sensation makes him arch and press deeper into you. 

“H-how... are you... s-so perfect?” you choke out, cupping your hands around his face and pulling him down for a kiss, and you feel him shudder and whine in the back of this throat. Hmm... is that a praise kink you hear? A moment later, you’re flooded with warmth and he comes undone on top of you, shaking and moaning in a tone that sounds like chiptune. You just need that little bit more- you’re almost there- you can feel the edge approaching and it makes you buck your hips desperately, clenching around him-

He pulls away, leaving you reaching for him with a wail of his name, but you quickly catch onto his plan as he tugs you sideways, and you flip onto your front and grab hold of the sheets, ass in the air. You’ve barely settled when he slides in again, and you groan into the bed as he pounds into you, rapidly working up to that edge again. It’s twists inside you, winding tight in your belly until finally it snaps and you bury your face in the mattress as you wail again, little light-headed.

You feel him press against your back, brushing his hands across your skin almost soothingly as you recover. He kisses your shoulder, then your neck, lips so soft and gentle and sweet against your skin that you gasp and lean into it, feeling yourself twitch against his cock. How is it that even after that thorough fucking, you feel like you could totally go again? You wiggle a little against him, and he hums into your skin, arm encircling you, and brushes you hair out of the way to whisper in your ear.

“You want more, don’t you, darling?” You make a noise of agreement, heart skipping and toes curling in excitement. He chuckles, pressing deep into you. “Well then. Hold on tight.”

You should’ve seen in coming, what with the tongue and all, but when his cock buzzes to life you can’t help but shriek and jerk, the intensity making your eyes water. The shock soon turns to pleasure, though, and soon enough you’re a shivering, moaning mess beneath him, rocking your hips against him as he just holds himself still, vibrating deliciously inside you. It’s so much and yet not enough, and you aren’t sure if you want to hurry up and come or lose yourself in the cloud of pleasure for longer. Your belly coils even faster than last time, and you grind your cunt against him, gasping for breath as you hit just the right spot and stars dance in front of your eyes. 

“Met- ugh! Mettaton! P-please-“ you can barely form the words, squirming desperately in his grip. “O-oh g-god, fuck me, please, f-fuck-“

He purrs- purrs!- lowly in your ear, loosening his grip a little and draws his hips back, taking the vibrations with him, and you whimper, clenching hard as if that would be able to hold him in place. For one torturous second, he holds himself just inside your cunt, waiting for you to beg, which you do, unashamedly. Then he thrusts back inside and sets an intense pace, and you almost sob into the bed, writhing helplessly beneath him as you come, hard, white hot heat surging through you.

And he keeps going.

He doesn’t stop pounding, and you don’t want him to. You think you’ve become addicted to his hands on your body, his cock inside you, his ragged pants in your ear that quickly turn into moans and then babbled, glitchy words. Your voice joins his, begging and cursing and whimpering, and maybe drooling a little too. Everything is so intense, and you feel him nip at your skin, biting just hard enough to add that extra something that tips you over the edge with a hoarse scream, fisting your hands in the sheets as he follows you, burying his face in your shoulder. His voice breaks as he cries out against your skin, and he gives a few more shaky thrusts before switching off the vibrations and pulling away. You feel him collapse next to you and wrap an arm around you, and you shift so that you’re facing him, breathing heavily. You’re sweaty and shivering and so, so worn out, but you have the biggest grin on your face because you’ve never felt so satisfied in your life.

“Holy shit,” you murmur once you’ve gotten your breath back, raising a weak hand to brush his hair out of his face. That gorgeous, sexy face, that blinks slowly at you with a tired smile. “That was amazing!”

His hand wander down to your thigh, fingers slipping underneath your sock to rub at the skin before snapping the fabric against your leg. You jump and giggle, rubbing your socked feet against his metal ones as he caresses your ass, trailing his hand up your body as if he can’t get enough of your skin. “I greatly enjoyed myself, darling.”

“Would you like some real coffee now?”

“Please.”

You sit up and stretch, aching deliciously, and quickly grab an oversized tee from your drawer, slipping it over your head as you wander out of your room to the kitchen. He follows you, picking up his clothes from the floor and making himself decent. 

The night ends with the two of you sipping coffee at the table, him chatting about his work and his friends and his attempts to make up for being an asshole some years ago. You think he sounds a little lonely despite the fame and the reconciliations. When he decides to leave, you stop him on the way out. “Look, my door is always open if you want coffee. Or a booty call. Or both. I had a really great time tonight and if you ever wanted-“

“Oh, I’ll be back, honey.” He winks, tossing his car keys in the air with sexy nonchalance. “You can count on it. Now get some rest, alright?”

“Sure thing, Mettaton.” He turns on his heel and saunters away, and just like this morning, you watch him leave, biting your lip. 

Well.

Maybe you don’t hate Wednesdays so much after all.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your determined to turn a bad night into a good one and fuck him up spectacularly.

“So we’re here tonight with monster-made musical sensation, Mettaton!” The applause was probably deafening as the tall, curvy robot crossed one leg over the other in his chair, waving and smiling at the camera.

You curled up on your couch at home, watching your secret booty-call live on TV. His new album had recently dropped, and you were eager to keep up with everything he did now that you two were closer than most fans and celebrities. You had followed his press tour around the country quite religiously over the last few weeks, all culminating with the live TV interview on the one of the hottest late night shows, right here in your city. As the camera pans around the whooping audience and back to the host of the show and his newest celeb guest, you studied Mettaton with hungry interest. It’d been a few weeks since your last interaction, and you weren’t ashamed to admit you really missed him. His new music, songs full of defiant self-love, crooning love letters and racy tracks, had been your constant companion on those lonely nights for the last week. Now you were desperate for anything you could get of him.

The beautiful man was absolutely radiant under the stage lights, his hair shiny and perfect- was that a hint of pink under his fringe?- and his eyes glittering as he pouted playfully at the camera. His jacket was cobalt crushed velvet, almost iridescent as he turned in his chair, the ruffles of his blouse spilling past his collar and his simple black pumps crossed at the ankle. He was the very picture of sophisticated femininity that you could only dream of being.

The host had been chatting in the background while you’d been practically salivating over Mettaton, and when you zoned back in he was asking the talented monster about his inspiration for his new album.

“Well everyone who has followed me for the last 5 years knows my style has always been pretty consistent, but I wanted to change it up a little bit, so I added all those little details, the colours, the sounds, the graphics.” He waved his hands lazily with the words, looking as if he was just speaking about the weather. That cool attitude was something that had always been so him. “And of course as I grow more and more experienced in the industry my sound matures and grows with me. And as for subject matter, the inspiration comes from experience, as it does for pretty much everyone.”

“I’m so glad you mentioned maturing, because I want to bring up the face that your music is in fact quite sexy, quite racy, you know, obviously for mature audiences. And it’s so interesting because despite how much you expose in your songs, you’re a very private person and I don’t think we’ve ever seen you in a long term relationship. Would you be able to elaborate on your inspiration, your experiences that most of us can only speculate about?”

Mettaton blinked, and in the few seconds that he took to process the question, you could see how taken aback he was. Of course there had been much speculation about him in the media, you’d read everything you could get your hands on about what people think about his gender, his sexuality, his identity as a monster. But clearly, this interviewer was out of line wth such probing questions. 

“You’re right, John, I am a very private person when it comes to personal matters, and I don’t see that changing. As I said, my inspiration comes from personal experiences and I’d rather let my fans reflect on themselves, than my life, when they hear my music.” He turned to the audience, inviting them to be involved in the conversation. “It’s a lot more fun to go ‘oh, this song reminds me of my boyfriend or my ex’ than ‘this song is about Mettaton and his relationship’ don’t you think?”

There was a murmur of agreement, and a few people clapped before settling down again.

‘John’ was obviously trying to get his bearings after being shut down from the answers he wanted, but that didn’t stop him from moving onto more interesting things. “Fair enough, everyone is entitled to their secrets. I know many people are wondering, though, what types of people your music is aimed at? Your whole packaged deal, the look and the sound, is reminiscent of performers that have certain interests, and I’m sure the fans are dying to have confirmed-“

“You’re asking if I’m gay because I look like a drag queen.” You had never heard his smooth, velvet voice drop into something so blank so fast. You choked on your popcorn as the audience giggled and the host laughed uncomfortably.

“Well, I wouldn’t have quite put it like that-“

“My whole packaged deal is reminiscent of performers who have certain interests, I think those were your exact words.” He held John’s gaze unflinchingly and tapped the side of his head. “Can’t fool a mechanical brain, darling.”

“Alright.” John shuffled some papers on his lap, probably the list of interview questions that he was now nervously thumbing through, probably trying to find something that wasn’t borderline if not blatantly offensive. “I think I should say in my own defence, before we go any further, that that was not a meant as commentary on the community of performers I was referring to- and you don’t look like a drag queen, that’s not what I meant, you have your own very polished, very flamboyant look.” You could see the sweat forming on the poor guys brow, trying desperately not to sound offensive, and he tried for a different route when he saw how stony Mettaton’s gaze was becoming. “I understand your body was constructed by a scientist Underground, and it’s a body and face that is loved by many in this country, if not around the world.” This seemed to mollify the robot a little as he nodded along. It didn’t last long. “I suppose a question on a lot of people’s minds is- with you having an artificial body, and being able to write so many songs about, you know, intimacy and things like that- you must be able to have experienced those things, right?”

There was a pregnant silence, and Mettaton narrowed his eyes at the interviewer. “Are you seriously asking if I can fuck?”

The second half of the word was bleeped out, but the audience’s raucous laughter was all you needed. You yourself were laughing with them, but for a different reason. You knew the answer to that question very very well.

“Well I mean- I mean-“ John blustered, trying to get a word in over the laughs. “You are a robot and it’s a valid question-“

Mettaton was pinching the bridge of his nose by now, looking thoroughly done. “Actually I’m an android, John. A robot is just a machine without thought. And the answer to that seems a bit obvious, doesn’t it? Considering I write almost every word of my songs.”

There were some cheers and whistles at the offhand admission, before the host motioned for them all to settle down. “You heard it here first folks, confirmed by our robot- sorry, Android star over here. A follow on from that would be what are your preferences? Do you lean one way or the other, who do you spend more time with, because you know none of your songs have any pronouns so really it’s a mystery to everyone-“

By now, Mettaton was looking behind him, wordlessly signalling to whoever was backstage. It was obvious that he was pretty much done with this interview, but it seemed he didn’t get the answer he wanted, since he just sighed and waved the question away. “You humans are far too hung up on labels.”

“So, no labels, got it.” John winked at the camera brazenly. “Does that mean you don’t subscribe to labels for both sexuality and, uh, gender? No labels, no nothing, like a lot of the modern youth today? Obviously that decision was a deliberate one when it came to your design. How far did that reach- is it just the way you present yourself to the world, or are there their parts of you that are flexible when it comes to that kind of thing?”

Mettaton shifted in his chair, obviously uncomfortable and confused with the barrage of invasive questions. “I’m not sure I understand.”

“How else can I phrase this?” The host glanced down at his guest’s lap, making it obvious what his question was referring to. “Does your body match your flexible identity?”

He looked around at the audience, who were starting to murmur and whisper among themselves, and gave them an incredulous look that sent them into stitches of laughter. Turning to the camera, making it feel like he was looking right at you, and you covered you face in mortification at the awful turn the night had taken. Finally turning back to the host, in the most deadpan voice, he articulated one word very slowly and deliberately. “Next.”

John laughed and nodded, scanning his list of questions. “Ok, sensitive topic. How about this- are you ever afraid that the overt sexual tone of your songs will detract from the reception of your music?”

“Why would I be afraid of that?” Mettaton looked bemused, giving him a quizzical look. “Every single one of my albums have sold more than 50 million copies, I’ve been at the top of the charts since I started, and I’ve done 4 very successful world tours and I will soon be doing a fifth. Going off those numbers, I don’t think any of my fans are complaining about how sexually explicit my songs are. Why, does it make you uncomfortable that someone like me is having sex and writing about it? I only ever hear you people ask those kinds of questions to beautiful, hardworking women in the industry, so the fact that I’m being questioned the same way is pretty indicative of the lack of respect happening here, isn’t it?”

The cheering from the crowd after that passionate speech was even more insane than when the segment started, and she cheered along with them, proud of Mettaton was standing up for himself. No way he was going to take bullshit like that. 

The host cleared his throat, looking uncomfortable with the question being turned on him and the pointing out of the obvious slut-shaming going on. “Hm, well, moving on... we don’t have much time left, so before-“

“How about I make your job a little easier?” Mettaton reached out and plucked the sheets of questions out of his hand, skimming it with narrowed eyes. You only just managed to catch John’s eyes widening in panic before your favourite celebrity was reading out the questions that had been meant for him. “Are you worried about your music influences younger audiences?” Sigh. “It’s all negative tonight, isn’t it darling? Of course I’m not worried. It’s obvious what audience my music is intended for... ‘You seem to be great friends with DJ Napstablook, who runs the Waterfall club downtown. Are we to expect a collaboration any time soon?’ I’m not sure how much research you seem to have done for this interview, darling, but I have collaborated with dear Napstablook on all 5 of my albums, so why would this one be any different?” 

There were titters from the audience as he made it obvious that he wasn’t holding back in his scathing tone anymore. “There seems to be a real close relationship there, care to tell us about it?” He went to reply, but stopped as he read forward to the next question too, his face changing expression to something unrecognisable. “Is it possible that the relationship is more than either of you have let on in the public?” 

He looked up, letting the paper slip out of his lap and scatter onto the floor, a grimace firmly scrunched onto his face. “You know what? I’m done. There is nothing in here that discusses the real reason I’m here tonight- my new fucking album, a musical achievement since it’s already sold 60 million copies in the last week and that number is climbing. But you only want to ask invasive questions about what’s between my legs, who I like to fuck, if I’m dating my own fucking family.” He stood up, dusting off his impeccable suit, and waved to the audience. “Buy my album, everybody! Keep your favourite drag queen on the top of the charts and help me fund the my biggest and best world tour yet! Thank you, I love you, goodnight!” And with that, he stalked offstage, leaving the interviewer gaping after him, trying to save face before you switched off the screen. 

———

Mettaton’s was knocking on your door when you slid into the living room in your stockinged feet. The star had ranted a little on his instagram story after the horrific interview, detailing exactly how mortified he felt on stage and how disrespected he had been, and you would have had to be heartless to not invite him over to take his mind off it. And that was even before headlines starting popping up in the more sensational side of your newsfeed, using the opportunity to suggest that Mettaton was hiding things because of how he took offence to some of the questions, that he didn’t care about younger fans, and questions about his heated ‘family’ comment and what relation Napstablook could be to him. There was even a suggestion that Mettaton could be a ghost possessing a robot body, as some ghost monsters were known to be able to use the method to become corporeal. You couldn’t believe the influx of ridiculous theories coming in, or the way the media twisted things to make Mettaton seem like the bad guy. But you were here for him now, and hopefully you could comfort him.

He looked more tired out and frustrated than you had ever seen him, but he still whistled long and low when you opened the door for him. “My god, are you a sight for sore eyes. Is all that just for me?” 

You smiled and drew him into your arms as the door shut behind him, tucking your face into the crook of his neck and nuzzling the artificial skin. His arms drew tightly around you as you felt him sigh against you. “Of course, hot stuff. You deserve it, especially after tonight’s disaster.”

He groaned .“Were you watching that shit?”

“Fortunately for you, yes.” You pulled back to look up at him. “How would I have known to invite you over for a distraction if I hadn’t been watching?”

“God, you’re wonderful, darling.” He pulled you into a kiss, and you melt against him with a delighted moan. You feel his hands start to wander downwards, skimming the silk of your chemise that barely covered your ass, teasing his finger between the lace of your panties and your warm skin, exploring further to snap the elastic of your stockings against your thigh, one of his favourite ways to get a reaction from you. You jump and gasp at the sting, grinning against his lips as you press your body up against his. “You’ve glowed up a little,” he murmured against your mouth, starting to kiss up your jaw. “Silk for sweaters, my my... how did you know I love silk and lace?”

“Just a guess...” you breathed, gripping the lapels of his jacket as you tipped you head up, encouraging his lips to venture further. Really, Mettaton’s tastes were pretty easy to work out, even if he had happily ravaged you in a sweater and long socks the first time. You had been waiting to wear something racier for a while now, and now seemed to be the perfect time. 

Your thoughts were starting to get a little fuzzy as Mettaton’s lips trailed down your neck, and your body was reacting spectacularly to the attention, already feeling slick and hot between your legs. Still, you didn’t want to make this just about a quick distracting fuck. You had a view ideas about how you wanted tonight to go, and this time it was all about him.

“Metta...” your voice changed to a gasping moan as his lips found your pulse and sucked at your skin, raising what you knew would be a beautiful hickey. 

“Yes, darling?” he purred, the words trickling like honey through your body. God, what that man’s voice could do to you...

You gave his velvet jacket a tug as you pulled him towards your bedroom, the two of you stumbling through the door with giggles and searching mouths, pressing kisses on each other wherever you could. Instead of pulling him on top of you, you spun him around and pushed him down, climbing onto his lap and letting him pull your body flush against his. The material of his jacket was so soft against your skin, and you ran your fingers idly through the fabric as he kissed a trail down your neck to your chest, nuzzling over the silk you wore until he found your nipple. You arched your back and pressed your chest against his face as he kissed, then licked your sensitive bud over the slippery material, your toes curling as you gasped and ground your damp underwear against the impressive bulge in his trousers. 

It was so hard to concentrate on your plan, but when he pulled back for a moment, you pressed a finger to his plush lips and smiled down at him gently. “Wait a moment. I want to take care of you tonight, Mettaton. You had a fucked up night, so how would you like to get fucked up a much nicer way?”

“You want to take control? By all means, honey.” He grinned up at you, hands wandering down your back to squeeze your ass playfully. “I’m very... versatile. Whatever you want to do, I’m all yours tonight.”

Well, that made things a little easier. You tapped your own lips in thought, eyes straying to the drawer where you kept your sex toys. “I have a toy I haven’t used in a while. I’m hoping it still fits me... if you’re totally ok with giving up control for tonight, I think you’d find it wonderfully distracting.” 

“Fits- oh, I hope you mean what I think you mean.” His eyes lit up, and he bit his lip as a flush grew over his cheeks. “I haven’t been fucked in the ass in so long!”

The casual admission, and his excitement, had you snorting with laughter. You slid off his lap and sauntered over to the drawer, feeling his eyes on you and making your hips sway a little more for his benefit. When you pulled the strap out and displayed it for him, his grin widened, and a hand strayed to rub himself. You pulled out the drawer from the dresser and brought it to him, showing off your collection. “Would you like to choose one? Oh, and a safeword too?”

His gaze alighted on your biggest dildo, one you had purchased on a whim and found too big to use, and he plucks it out daintily to stroke in his hands. It was velvet smooth, translucent pale pink and glittery, ridged and semi-realistically shaped. If nothing else, it was pretty, and it also vibrated. You smiled wickedly and replaced the drawer, coming back to slide into his lap again, getting to work on his buttons. “You’re a bit of a size queen, then?”

“Oh, darling, you have no idea...” he fixed you with the most smouldering look, placing the tip of the dildo against his lips and sucking lewdly, holding your gaze. Your insides quivered at the sight, your breath catching as you clutched at his jacket. He stopped immediately, hand resting on yours. “Now now, this is Saint Laurent. Easily five thousand dollars, baby, don’t want to ruin that.”

You nearly choked on air, but all that came out was “It’s already crushed.”

He giggled, nodding, and helped you unbutton the rest, shrugging it off his shoulders letting it crumple to the floor. “You’re right. There are more important things to worry about right now. And the safeword is pink, by the way.” Of course it was. 

“Like getting the rest of your clothes off and fucking you into my mattress?” You grinned cheekily at him as he nodded in approval, hands flying to practically tear his shirt off. You pushed him down onto his back as he dropped his ruffled shirt next to his jacket, smiling down at the android as his thick dark hair fanned around his face like a halo. He blinked up at you with those long eyelashes, and your heart stuttered in your chest at how goddamned beautiful he was, every single feature perfect in its design. Oh, you were going to make this guy scream the same way you did when he first came over, you just knew it.

“Like what you see?” He asked with a smirk, your pause much too noticeable to not point out.

“Oh yes,” you hum, brushing some hair out of his face before you slid down his lap between his open legs. “What I see is incredibly beautiful... exquisite design... absolute perfection...” Such elaborate praise for someone who didn’t need the ego boost, but if you were right about the little praise kink you had picked up last time...

And there it was. He let his head fall back from watching you, eyelashes fluttering as he sucked in a breath. “You flatterer...” 

“It’s the truth, handsome...” you grinned as you heard his internal fans whirring, and unbuckled his trousers to see a lacy hem peeking out. “Oooh, you do like lace, don’t you? We match tonight!” You slowly pulled down his trousers and discarded them, fingertips trailing over the delicate lace that was straining over his cock, half afraid he’d burst the underwear. He hummed in delight at your touch, rocking his hips a little under your hand, and you pushed the flimsy lace to the side and released him. You wasted no time in taking his dick into your mouth, sealing your lips around him and starting to suck. He squirmed under you with a moan as you bobbed your head, your fingers seeking out new territory as they brushed between his ass cheeks and found an already-slick entrance. It was surprising enough for you to pause and examine further, slipping a finger inside.

“Self-lubed,” He gasped, hearing your small sound of surprise. He raised his legs on either side of you and pressed back against your finger, urging you to continue. “Fun, isn’t it? And I don’t even need stretching, you know. I was made for this.”

An interesting way to put it, but it did seem so. You added another finger and thrusted them inside him, swirling your tongue around the head of his cock before you pulled away, stroking it at an even pace. Mettaton was breathing hard, eyes closed as he held his legs up and wiggled against your ministrations. Nice, but not good enough. You stopped abruptly, not missing his whine as you pulled away. “Shush. Get on your hands and knees.”

The way he snapped into action was was gratifying, his obedience really doing something for you. As he wiggled his glorious ass in your face, you slapped it playfully, making him jump and gasp. “You like that?” you asked with a grin, and he nodded, peering back at you with burning cheeks. You do it again, one cheek and then the other, his gasps turning to moans as he flinched but always pressed back for more. You stopped, again to his obvious dismay, and yanked down his pretty panties, burying your face between his cheeks and probing your tongue past his tight entrance to press inside. Your senses were immediately overtaken with something fruity and sweet, and he moaned in earnest now, spreading his ass for you as you thrust your tongue as deep as it would go. 

“Not only self-lubed...” you mumbled between thrusts of your tongue, “but flavoured?”

“Makes eating ass... oh god... a lot more fun... hah... wouldn’t you say?” He huffed, enjoying your efforts immensely.

“Mmhmm,” you hummed, reaching for your strap and his chosen dildo while your mouth was occupied, fumbling blind to put the device together and attach it to you. He was panting into the pillows when you pulled away, cock dripping with pearly pink pre-cum as it hung heavy between his legs. He was worked up now, practically begging for a good dicking down. “You’ve been so patient, beautiful...” you murmured, lining yourself up to him and pushing gently inside. The silicone stretched around your dick tightly, and you grinned as Mettaton whimpered and ground back against you, taking the rest of the huge dildo to the hilt. So much for patience. He really did seem to be made for this.

You grasped his hips firmly and thrust yours into him, rocking against Mettaton and picking up a good pace. The way you were able to move so smoothly against him made you wish you could feel what you were doing, but you focused on his pleasure instead, the way he grasped the pillows near his head hard enough to tear, the moans and whimpers that fell from his lips, how his body felt under your hands. 

“Harder, baby, please,” Mettaton begged, and you snapped your hips forward, trying to move faster. You were unused to the movement, thought there was once a time that you used the strap fairly regularly, and while you were quickly tired out, your body was starting to remember how it was done. You smacked his ass again as you thrusted quickly into him, provoking cries of delight and his own movements back against you, meeting your thrusts. You were panting now, legs already straining to keep you upright and sweat dripping down your back, but the lewd wet noises and the way he moaned stirred a fire inside you, wanting to chase his pleasure down for him and blow his mind. 

Maybe now was the time for your secret weapon. “Hey Metta...” you cooed, feeling around the base of the dildo for the switch you knew was there, “you might want to hold onto something...”

You reference to his statement the last time he was here hit home a second before before your cock buzzed to life, and he practically howled into the pillows as you pressed deep inside him with the vibrations on high. Scrambling for purchase and squirming under the onslaught of pleasure you were giving him, he was a sight to be seen, twitching and tensing with your every thrust. You were sure if it was his sinful sounds or the vibrations pressing against your pubic mound that made you more wet, but your arousal gave you the shot of adrenaline you needed to pick up the pace, gripping Mettaton’s hips tightly and fucking his perfect ass as hard as you could. 

“O-oh my god- darling that’s- oh baby yes right there, right there-“ his voice skipped like a scratched record and grew to a shriek, his legs shaking and back arching hard. You didn’t stop, even as he came loudly and messily underneath you, some of his babbling lost to euphoric dial-up noises and groans that cut out halfway through. The utterly inhumaness of it fueled the fire inside you, the desire to utterly ruin this perfect man. You kept going until he was twitching and whimpering under you, and finally stopped when the ache in your back was too much to ignore. 

“Roll over,” you told him, crawling over next to him and sinking onto your back with a sigh. You patted your lap, and a moment later he settled on top of you, heavy but not enough to discomfort. Your hands wandered over him as you gazed up at his smudged makeup, messy hair, parted lips, and when you closed your hand around his cock his eyelashes fluttered and he pressed into your touch. You gave him a few slow pumps, grinning up at his flushed face, before moving your hands to your own dick. “I want you to ride me. Think you can handle it?” 

His eyes sparkled, and he answered you by lifting himself up and sinking down onto the dildo in one go. Well then. You switched it on again, and it was obviously unexpected, because he yelped and squeezed his knees together, rocking on you with delighted moans. He looked so hot, falling apart so quickly on top of you. You propped yourself up and reached up to tangle your hand in his hair, pulling him down and crushing his mouth to yours. He kissed you in wild abandon, tangling his tongue with yours and sucking on it in a way that made you feel weak. You bit his lip in return, and pulled him closer to graze your teeth against his ear. “Fuck yourself, Metta... I wanna see you cum again.”

He pulled back with a glazed look in his eyes, and immediately started to drive himself down onto the vibrating dildo in his ass. You had to marvel at his strength as he supported himself entirely with his powerful thighs, riding you hard and quick. You were sure you couldn’t match his speed if you tried. The sounds leaving his lips were positively sinful, loud groans and harsh gasps that only grew higher and louder as he moved furiously on top f you. Every thrust pressed you down into the bed, making it squeak alarming, until you began to match his pace and drive your hips up into him, one hand grasping his thigh and the other pulling at his cock.

“That’s it, gorgeous, that’s it... take that huge cock, you look so good up there riding me,” you pant out, watching the shivers go through him and the pre-cum smear over your fingers as your words hit his praise kink just right. “You make me feel so good when you look like that, you’re doing so good baby... god, you’re such a good boy!”

Either you accidentally discovered his greatest weakness, or the vibrator found just the right spot inside him, because at that moment he cried out and fell forward, grinding down onto you as he came all over your belly. His body tensed and trembled uncontrollably as he pressed the dildo deep inside him, hanging over you and crying out in that deliciously glitchy voice right in your ear. You wrapped your arms around him and pulled him flush against you, angling your hips into him mercilessly and forcing him to keep going. Mettaton choked on a moan and clung to you helplessly as the vibrations proved too much- or just right- for him, and you felt the thick ropes of cum spill onto your belly again, his third orgasm of the night. 

“Pink! P-pink!” He stammered, and you pushed him off you, turning off the vibrator. He laid on his back, panting hard and practically boneless, trembles wracking his frame. You suddenly noticed how hot to touch he was, and the loud whirring of internal fans now that he was the only source of noise. 

“You ok?” you asked worriedly, brushing his hair out of his face. He nodded, smiling widely as he tried to catch his breath.

“I am so good right now.” His voice was still a little glitchy, and he knocked his fist against his chest, clearing his throat. “Just a little overheating problem, nothing to worry about. God, you really hit the spot, sweetheart.”

You grinned and unbuckled yourself, removing the strap and toy and getting comfortable next to him. “Adequately distracted, I take it?”

“I can’t even remember what I’m distracted from,” he mused dreamily, turning to face you and pulling you into a breathtaking kiss. Your eyes fluttered shut and you wound you arms around his neck, pressing close, arching against his touch as his hands ghosted down the silk of your chemise. You were so hot and bothered now that any touch from him was magnified, and you moaned into his mouth as his fingers dipped under your panties and into your heat. A moment later and the panties were ripped away impatiently, two fingers slipping inside you with ease. “Darling, you’re so wet for me...” he purred in your ear, and you clutched at him fitfully as he thrusted and curled his fingers, making you lose your breath for a moment. “I bet you’re desperate for my cock inside you, aren’t you?”

“As desperate as you were for mine,” you counter with a groan, and he chuckled lowly as he pulled you on top of him and pushed inside you. He gave you a moment to settle, and his smirk made your pussy clench around him in anticipation. 

“Extremely desperate, then.” His cock buzzed to life, and it only took a few moments before you were pushed over the edge, so wound up from the night’s activities. His wicked grin signified that you were nowhere near close to finishing yet, and you let him take over, your voice hoarse by the time you finally slipped into an exhausted sleep. 

———-

Morning found you sore but satisfied, and curled against Mettaton’s front with his arms wound tightly around you. It was sweet, tender, and you let yourself relax in the light steaming from between your curtains. Not for long, though- your bladder and your growling stomach called too loudly for you to settle, and you worked your way out of the robot’s tight grip and got yourself ready for the day. 

One of the straps on your chemise had been torn, your panties were shredded on the floor, and you were covered in hickeys and smudges of the other’s makeup, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. The aches in your back and legs you could’ve done without, though. You took a pain-reliever and pottered around the kitchen making coffee, humming to yourself as the smell revived your senses. 

Hands slid over your hips and a body pressed against yours, swaying along with you as lips crept over your tender neck. You shivered a little, clutching your mug as Mettaton draped himself over you and pressed you against the bench. “Good morning, darling...” he murmured, tongue tracing over a bruise he had left. 

“Coffee?” you offered weakly, breath catching as you felt his cock pressing against your ass. It slid alluringly over the silk between your cheeks, before slipping between your thighs. You were so wet already, and he groaned as he felt it, your inner thighs becoming slick as he rubbed against your aching pussy. 

“Mmmf... coffee would be lovely...” He panted in your ear, and oh god if that didn’t make any resolve you were holding onto crumble. You ground back against him, wiggling your ass until you felt his cock catch on your clit. You squeezed your thighs around him, feeling the ridges and bumps drag against your skin, and he curled his arms around you and started to thrust in earnest, dropping kisses over your neck and moaning against your skin. 

When the vibrations kicked in, it wasn’t long before you were jerking against him, crossing one leg over the other and throwing your head back over his shoulder, gasping as your vision swam and your body tensed. Warmth spread trickled down your legs, seeping into your stockings as the two of you came together, holding each other tight and crying out in unison. 

Once he had let go and slipped away, you turned to face him with a grin, holding up a mug which he gladly took. “Alright, have some real coffee before you leave, Mr Insatiable.”

“You’re not complaining,” he teased smugly, sipping the coffee and approaching you again, pressing close with his arm reaching around you. You tilted you head up to meet his lips, already flushing with arousal again... but he retreated with your jar of sugar, smirking and turning away to heap spoonfuls of the stuff into his coffee. “Goodness, honey, and you call me insatiable? You’re a damn horn dog.”

“Do you blame me?” You giggled, pouring yourself a mug and holding it out for sugar too. “You know, you’re allowed to say you don’t like my coffee.”

“Not at all,” he tapped your nose with the spoon, and gave you a heaped spoonful before taking a swig of his now disgustingly sweet coffee. “And I love your coffee, baby, but you know I love sweet things. Why else would I be here?”

“To get fucked in the ass?” You suggested brightly, breaking into giggles when he choked on his mouthful. 

“That too. You’re a goddess, you know that sweetheart?” He grinned and laid a warm, coffee-flavoured kiss on your lips, before his eyes landed on your broken strap with a frown. “I’m sorry about your lingerie. I’ll send you more, of course. To replace those panties I ripped, too, and these lovely stockings we just stained.”

“Oh, you don’t have to-“

“Shush, it’s already been done. I won’t hear any more about it- you were in charge last night, so it’s my turn now.”

You stared up at him, taken aback, but if he was insistent on buying you lingerie, you weren’t going to complain. 

“That’s better.” He smiled and clinked his mug against yours, and downed the drink in one gulp. You let him return to your room to get dressed, grinning down at your coffee with a smug feeling of satisfaction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mettaton’s jacket: https://www.net-a-porter.com/au/en/product/1068851
> 
> Ok I only exaggerated the price a tiny bit.

**Author's Note:**

> *fans self*  
> *coughs*  
> *retires for the night*


End file.
